


Pick-Me-Up

by ChronicCatalina



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: "baby" x1000, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 03:17:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20923289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChronicCatalina/pseuds/ChronicCatalina
Summary: After an upsetting day, you call Steve at work for a little cheering up but his shift doesn’t end until later. So he leaves early and comes around for a mood lift.





	Pick-Me-Up

It’d be easier to make a list of what _hadn’t_ gone wrong today.

Traffic was a mess, your boss never stopped yelling, a stranger was rude, a mystery liquid spilled on your shirt, and on top of it all, your lunch was gross.

You faceplanted on your bed as soon as you got home, kicking off your shoes with all the attitude you weren’t allowed to muster at work. Which was a lot, because the pair nearly sailed into your closet. It was a relief to be home but the silence in your house was _deafening_ and the last thing you wanted was to be alone with your thoughts. Rolling over just enough to reach the powder-blue phone on your nightstand, you dialed the familiar number and let it blurt a repetitive _ring, ring_.

“This is Scoops Ahoy, how may I assist you with your journey on this ocean of flavor?” a female voice drawled.

“Hey Robin, it’s me. Could you put Steve on the line?”

A snort was followed by a muffled, “Dingus! It’s your girlfriend!”

“_Told ya_ you should let me answer it,” Steve called from a distance. His voice got louder as he cradled the phone to his ear. “You’re speaking with the most charming man in the world. How’s the best girlfriend ever?”

Try as you might, your voice cracked when you answered, “She’s been better.”

“_Whoa_, whoa, whoa. Baby, are you okay?”

“Not really. It’s just been a super shitty day.”

Steve scoffed, landing a good smack to the freezer next to him. “Your dickhead of a boss do something? I’m gonna punch that guy right in the nose.”

“My boss was mean and so was some random lady and then I had a gross sandwich…” A shaky sigh escaped. You tossed an arm over your face. “You’re done at work soon, right? Can you come over?”

“Baby, I…_shit_.”

“What’s wrong?”

Steve tugged a distressed hand through his hair, wincing as he said, “I can’t right now, babe. Shift doesn’t end for hours.”

“Oh.” Tears pricked your eyes. Of course something else would go wrong.

“Goddammit, I’m sorry. You know I’d do _anything_ for you but I can’t lose this job and —“

“I know, Steve, it’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

He groaned. “This sucks. Geez, baby, I’m so sorry. I’ll be over as soon as I’m done here, okay? Like cheetah-speed. Nothing’s gonna stop me.”

That drew a faint smile to your lips. “Sounds good. I can’t wait to see you.”

“Right back at you. Hang in there. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

**

After the _click_ of the line, Steve groaned again. His sneakers echoed loudly in the breakroom as he paced and muttered to himself. The thought of you crying by yourself _crushed_ him like he crushed that empty soda can left on the table.

“Can’t even have time for my freakin’ girlfriend…”

A lightbulb came on over his head and he snapped his fingers with a giddy laugh.

“Got an idea there, Popeye?” Robin quipped, having just flipped the lightswitch.

Steve just grinned and dashed for the freezer, hurriedly looking around before grabbing a full gallon of ice cream and a pack of stupid little plastic spoons.

“Steve, where are you going?”

“Damsel in distress!” he called, already hurtling the front counter. “You can have all the tips this week, just _please_ cover for me!”

Robin smirked at his retreating form. “His grandma’s sick,” she explained to a confused customer.

**

Bad moods never make for good naps, so you were almost thankful when a car door slammed in your driveway and disturbed your slumber. You investigated from your window and if a smile could crack glass, yours would be shattered.

Steve Harrington, knee-socks and all, stood on your lawn holding his arms out wide. _Ta-da_, he mouthed.

You quickly wrestled your window open, bursting with happiness. “What are you doing here?”

“Cheetah-speed, remember?”

“What about work?”

“Screw company policy.” He flicked a nod to his car. “Your chariot awaits. I mean, if you wanna, I just figured going for a drive would —”

“Yes!”

You cut him off with a slam of your window and raced out the front door into his arms. His uniform shirt was warm and smelled sweetly familiar and you buried yourself in it, tuning everything out except his whispers against your hair.

“Hey there. I got you, baby.”

The rush of comfort relaxed you immediately, so much so that exhausted tears slipped from your eyes. You held out as long as you could, not caring who saw two lovebirds standing in a driveway, before finally sniffling and giving yourself away.

Steve jolted back. “What? I thought you were happy I’m here. What’s all this?” He brushed his thumbs under your eyes, wiping all the tears away and becoming even more confused when you giggled.

“I’m fine, Steve. Just overwhelmed.”

“I might have something that could help.” Clasping your hand, he led you over to his car and opened the passenger door to reveal a gallon of your favorite ice cream buckled in the seat. “It…might be a little melted by now but it’s sure as hell still edible.”

You couldn’t do anything but plant a kiss square on Steve’s mouth, igniting an early start for what he had planned for later. He laughed into the kiss and chased your lips when you tried to pull away. A _thud_ rang out as your back landed against the car and your squeals filled the air when he peppered kisses to your face and neck.

“Okay, okay!”

“Nah, I got you to smile,” he teased. “Can’t stop now, that would make me a bad boyfriend!”

But he did finally slow down, cradling your cheek and gazing into your bleary eyes. The happiness hung in the air and after another hug you both piled into his car, the ice cream safely nestled in your lap. With one hand on the wheel and the other on your knee, Steve was content to eat the ice cream when the drive was over.

When you leaned over to feed him a bite, however, he couldn’t say no.


End file.
